Update A/N: Just editing, not rewriting.

A/N: THANK YOU ALL!!!!!!!!!! Oh my god, it was so great to get reviews, and so many people liked my ideas and my writing—both here and in 'Stumbling Steps', my one-shot. I was shocked and thrilled to find myself on several Favorites lists and Author Alerts my work had been posted or only about twelve hours. It was such a rush! I've had people tell me they can't wait for new chapters, and that they'd like to see more one-shots. I'll try to oblige!

I had a comment that the chapters were a little short. I write a lot of my first drafts long hand, and length is harder to judge on paper. I made this chapter longer, and I think it flows well. Thanks for the feedback!

Please, keep reading—and reviewing!

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah—I don't own anything, Tamora does. I just borrowed from her for a while.

Lingering Ghosts
Himura Seraphina

Chapter 5) Arrival

The sun was setting—earlier than normal, as they were in the mountains—and the air chilled as they approached Snowsdale village. Daine shivered with memories and the cold, and looked to a small, overgrown path which left the road before the final turn to the village. Numair, who had kept one eye on her at all times since leaving Cría, saw the direction of her gaze.

"Buri, Daine and I will follow—there's something we need to investigate."

Buri nodded knowingly, and Numair and Daine halted, letting the company pass by and disappear around the turn in the road. Her eyes never left the path.

"Daine, do you really want to—"

"I have to."

Together they dismounted, Cloud and Spots, Numair's gelding, agreeing to remain behind. Hand in hand, they walked towards Daine's old home.

Plants had invaded the ruined cottage, and she could 'hear' the animals that had done the same. The upper story had burned away entirely, the lower scorched but intact. Shutters and doors had fallen in the last years, and debris was scattered across the part of the floor she could see through the doorway. She didn't enter the ruin.

Nearby crude gravestones stood in a row—large rocks, with wooden markers placed carefully against them, each bearing a roughly carved name. One stone each for her ma, granda, dog Mammoth, and Cloud's sire and dame.

"They didn't touch anything; didn't even come to leave proper headstones. They abandoned this place just as they did her after the attack."

Numair felt the raw pain in her voice down to his soul. "We can come back and do it—leave proper markers. Sarra knows what you did here, Daine. That's what's important."

She nodded, still staring at the graves of her loved ones, before turning into the arms of her love.

Numair held her tightly as she trembled, not with tears but with memories. Finally, after long minutes, she drew away slightly. "Let's catch up to the rest."

He nodded, taking her hand again and leading the way. "I love you magelet."

She squeezed tightly on his hand. "I love you, too."

Daine chose to lead Cloud into the village rather than ride, and Numair followed her example. She was only prolonging the inevitable, but she wanted to take a few extra minutes to prepare herself.

Snowsdale was mostly the same: like other villages, it had a central square around which the most important buildings were grouped, a small temple, and only a few streets. Some houses were more rundown than others, some more prosperous-looking. There were a few new houses and, a true mark of prosperity, an inn, which is where they were headed.

Cloud, Daine said to her pony as they entered the inn's stable yard, please behave. Don't bit or kick—just be nice.

The few stablehands were already busy with the mounts of Buri, Raoul, Evin, and Lena, as well as their escort's horses. The rest of the company, including the two Gallan knights by their own choice, would set up camp outside the village. Due to the chaos, it was one of the youngest hands, a boy no more than eight, who approached them.

See, he's just a child. Will you behave?

For the colt, at least. I won't promise about anyone else.

Knowing it was the best she would get, Daine didn't argue. To the boy she said, "Perhaps its best if you take care of my pony and no one else; Cloud likes children better than adults."

The boy bobbed his head with a grin. "Aye, mistress." When he took both Spots and Cloud in hand, Daine and Numair collected their packs—including the one in which Kitten slept—and went inside to the inn's common room.

Amid the chaos of distinguished guests, the important folk of the town, and those who crowded the room in order to see so many foreigners and nobles, no one noticed the arrival of a small woman and a tall man, dusty with travel.

It took time for order to be restored and quiet to come. Baron Marcus performed the introductions between the important townsfolk—the village priest, Rikar Holden, the headman Hakkon Falkoner, innkeeper Timis Masters, and the healer/midwife Nonia—and the Gallans. It was Raoul who spoke for the Tortallans.

He spoke directly to the village leaders, though everyone watched and listened avidly. "My companions and I command soldiers of the Queen's Riders and the King's Own, whom will encamp at the eastern edge of the village. Our presence is twofold—first, to track down the bandit group which has been striking this region the last several months and second, to exchange information and interact with the Gallan representatives here in an effort to further the alliance between our realms." He gestured to Buri, Lena, and Evin. "The Riders are lead by Evin Larse and Lena Fletcher, who command the 7th and 5th Groups respectively, and Buri Tourakom, who is the Commander of the Queen's Riders on the whole. All the Riders wear a red band on the left arm to identify them. I lead the ten soldiers of the King's Own who are here, and within our party there are also two mages, who are also ambassadors of Tortall and commanded directly by our king."

"In an effort help you, not only with this particular group of bandits, but with raiders in general, the Riders and Own will also work with you townspeople and militia, to teach you some of our methods for use in the future."

There were murmurs of interest and appreciation as Hakkon responded. "Our thanks, milord, for your aid. But, can I ask, where are your mages?"

Daine felt both numb and boneless as she, next to Numair, walked towards Raoul. All eyes fell on them, but it took until halfway across the room before the gasps and mutters of recognition began—she was no longer the girl of twelve she had once been. Whispers followed in their wake, and, as she approached, she saw looks of anger, fear, and rage on the faces of the village leaders.

"Master Numair Salmalin, chief mage of Tortall, and Daine, the Wildmage."

She barely heard Raoul's introduction as, for the first time since her 'madness', she faced Hakkon, who had led the attempts to slay her, and Rikar, who had instigated them.

It was Rikar, the tall, withered priest, whose mouth was always pinched in distain, who spoke first. "You dare show yourself here again? After you proved yourself to be the hellspawn I had always known you to be?"

Daine met his hate filled gaze squarely as Hakkon spoke.

"Forgive me, milord Raoul, but this girl, Daine—she, well, she's mad, sir. She ran mad here years ago."

"Hakkon Falkoner, we are perfectly aware of events here six years ago—more so than you. What was, to your eyes, madness, was Daine's unique magic breaking out under traumatic circumstances. She has been cured and trained, and is a trusted friend of the Royal family."

The coldness in Raoul's voice perversely warmed Daine even as it forced Hakkon a step back. Rikar was not impressed.

"She has no magic—she was tested and proven without out it many times."

"Daine has no Gift," Numair shot out, his voice holding the scathing tone that had sent more than one scholar and mage into flight, "but she does have Wild Magic—a gift only a well-educated scholar would recognize." His voice told everyone present that Rikar was not those things, in his eyes.

Red flagging his cheeks, Rikar glared in hatred and fury at being questioned and embarrassed. "Then she has only hidden her madness and true nature from you, as she did before. Daine Sarrasri is the demon seed which Snowsdale tried to stamp out many years ago—and failed. She will bring only misery."

It was Baron Marcus who stepped forward before any of Daine's friends could strike the priest. "Mistress Daine, you are from Snowsdale village?"

Her eyes never left Rikar and Hakkon. "Yes sir, I was raised here. When I was almost thirteen, my family was killed by bandits, and my Wild Magic broke loose—which is why I left for Tortall."

Numair spoke up, still using a scholarly tone—one which made everything he said sound like to gods' own truth. "Daine's magic is in such abundance that, under the trauma of her family's death, the natural barriers around her gift were breeched—allowing her magic to bleed into her life-force, causing the unique reactions witnessed by Snowsdale village. When we met, I was able to end that by erecting a permanent barrier between her magic and self—curing her 'madness' and allowing her to control her Wild Magic."

Marcus, with some training with his own small Gift, and a scholarly background, nodded. "I see—quite remarkable. And difficult for you, Mistress, I'm sure. You were very fortunate to find Master Salmalin."

"The feeling is mutual, sir—we met when I rescued him from a flock of Stormwings."

"I'm glad that's settled, then," the Gallan concluded, his tone pointed and firm as he looked to the village elders, then scanned the room and villagers. A number of them dropped their gazes and looked away, while Hakkon refused to acknowledge Daine and Rikar went white with fury. "Now, I am sure we all are ready for rest after our journey. Perhaps we should adjourn to our rooms, and met again in the morning to discuss our plan of action?"

The Tortallans met two candlemarks later in Raoul's chamber, spread out on the bed, single chair, and even the floor. Numair had shielded the room, black fire glittering over walls, door, and window so they couldn't be overheard.

"You're sure its best for Evin and me to board here instead of at the camp?" Lena questioned Buri from where they both sat on the bed.

"Yes—you'll spend a lot of the day at camp, or scouting, but a night you need to be here for planning and relaying reports. It's more convenient this way than to have you running between the inn and camp in the dark." Lena nodded.

"Impressions?" Raoul asked.

"The priest is an ass," Evin stated bluntly from where he was propped against the door. Everyone turned to look at Daine, who was on the floor in front of where Numair sat on the bed, her head resting against his knee.

"Rikar's always been like that—though he seems a bit worse now. He's very self-righteous, and keeps control of the village through encouraging superstition and intolerance. Ma refused to fall in line, and he saw it as questioning his authority. He pushed the town to shun her, but she was the only healer or midwife, so they could only avoid her so much. I was an easier target, and proof of what happened to those who led a wicked life—he didn't start saying I was a demon spawn until I was older."

Her friends looked disgusted and enraged, which soothed her as much as Numair's hand stroking her curls.

"Unfortunately," Raoul said, pointedly, "we're not here to avenge Daine, and we can't purge the world of the ignorant or stupid—"

"There'd be no one left," Evin put in.

"—so I suggest we all stay away from the village priest," he finished when the chuckled died down. "Daine, what else can you tell us?"

"Nonia—the healer?—she's only got a touch of the Gift. She's more a midwife than anything, and that mostly comes from personal experience. She'll know bonesetting and stitching, but she's not a true healer."

"My man Quint's a healer—chose the Riders over a place with Duke Baird's people," Lena told them. "I can keep him out of scouting and tracking, keep him close to camp as a field healer."

"Do that, then. What about the headman?"

Daine tugged at her lip as she mussed over Raoul's question. "Hakkon's a harder one to figure out—always was. He was the falconer for a long time, and since our lord's an avid hunter, it made him pretty powerful and one of the wealthier men in town. He courted Ma for a while—despite Rikar—and I think it was because being married to the region's only healer would have made him more noticeable. He's fair, but—" she paused, trying to describe her impression of the man. "It always seemed to me that he was fair and considerate because being so was to his advantage—people always looked up to him and listened to what he said. I guess it paid off, since he's the headman now."

"So he plays a deep game of power," Buri clarified.

"And regard—what people think of him's important. That was another reason he courted Ma, I'd say—marrying a mother and supporting a bastard would have made him look good and generous."

"And I though nobles were bad," Evin muttered.

"Peasants are just like nobles—they just don't speak as pretty." Everyone chuckled at that.

Raoul looked around at everyone, face serious. "We have a duty to stop these bandits, and to do our part in the alliance. This is the place that fate chose for that to happen, and despite our personal prejudices on Daine's behalf, we must fulfill our missions." Nods accompanied this, and Daine felt her lip tremble faintly as the tremendous respect and affection she felt for everyone in the room overwhelmed her. Her friends, who wanted to avenge what they saw as wrongs committed against her, but would serve their king above all else. "Alright, then, we've had a long day—lets get some rest, and talk in the morning." Everyone stood to leave when Raoul went on. "And Daine? Whatever happens—and did happen—here, whatever anyone in this town says; your friends know who you are."

She looked into warm, serious eyes, felt the gazes of the others in the room, and felt her muscles relax for the first time all day. "I know who I am too—and where my real home is."

Ten minutes later Daine undressed, slipping on one of Numair's old shirts which served as her night clothes. Numair was still fretting as he undressed.

"Odd's bob's, Numair, calm down—you magically locked both our chamber door and the windows—no one will know I'm in here."

"Daine, I just—"

"Just what?"

"I don't want to give these people any more arrows to use against you."

Deflated from her building temper, Daine sat on the bed. "Numair, I need something familiar, something real here. I can't sleep alone—you know that—and I daren't keep my window open for my friends. If I have to sleep without you as well—" she trailed off. "Please, Numair, I need you."

With her head down, distracted by worry, she didn't sense Numair move until he he'd swept her up in his arms. Laying her down on the down-turned bed, he followed her down. "Then you shall have me, magelet," he whispered, his voice deep and harsh with emotion—and desire.

With a soft cry, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him down onto her, luxuriating in his weight and warmth, both soothing and arousing, her hands beginning to explore his broad, muscular back.

Numair allowed her to draw him into lovemaking, exploring her body—so well-known and yet endlessly fascinating—with hands and lips, wanting only to help her fight her memories and fears. As they came together, he swore to take care of her—whatever the cost.